Star Wars: The Lesson
by ecnal nogardnap
Summary: Amidst the turmoil of the Clone Wars, two Jedi Council members find the time for a quick sparring bout.


**Author's notes: So I'm a huge Plo Koon fan. I have a friend who is a huge Ki-Adi fan. It was perhaps inevitable that this piece of fanboy joy quasi-philosophical action sequence would come into being! Hope you enjoy it, though! Couple of things:  
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**1) It should be fairly easy to tell when the perspective switches, but just in case, I'll mention that you should watch out for a font switch!  
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**2) I know I drop details on the combatants, but I'd like to think that this could apply to most Star Wars eras, haha!  
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**Disclaimer: Star Wars is not mine, it is the creative property of George Lucas, Lucasfilms, etc.**

We greet each other with the common wisdoms. The gesture is for the learners: the padawans, the troops, any who would learn. But while there is a time and place for words, our lessons do not lie in them.

For right now, combat is our teacher. And with that, we draw on the Force and become one. One with technique, one with the lightsaber. Body, mind and weapon directed towards a singular purpose.

_I can feel the Force as we draw it upon ourselves, as surely as I can feel my own muscles tense as we take up our stances. Yours is solid, poised for anything; mine is kept close, a balanced posture which belies the dynamic aggression of Ataru._

_The first exchange is quick and precise. Even then, the speed and force astounds those gathered, my every step and bound drawing me in and out of striking distance from multiple angles. As swift as I am, you meet each strike with counters of surprising strength._

The only masters I knew who could match your skill in this form are Qui-Gon and Master Yoda. Your approach is dazzling, coming from all approaches, keeping me alert and on the defensive yet never overextending yourself. Your strikes, high or low, left or right, test my defences, forcing me to dodge around the battlegrounds.

As you speed up your assault, your saber dancing like an Echani, I remember the maxim Master Tyvokka taught me, passed down through generations of practitioners: Peace through superior firepower.

_Each strike is blocked, each thrust parried. With each assault, I lose a little momentum, until your ripostes and counterstrikes shift the flow of battle. It is a subtle shift, and our clashes might seem instantaneous to the untrained eye, but I know the difference._

_My attacks are swift, as if they were an onslaught of blasterfire from multiple opponents. Perhaps you share the perception; it would account for the ease with which your Shien velocities redirect my blows. Each time, I renew my offensive in a heartbeat. Each time, it is on your terms, from a point of your choosing, rebounding off a parry or counter of your own._

As the lines of battle shift, so too does your approach. Your alacrity cannot break down my defences as I gain ground, so you decide to go around them. Rather than forcing me to move from my position, you adopt the approach with your own styles, concentrating your technique on a single point.

Like a rock snake, your form changes fluidly from one stroke to the next. Your feint was so subtle that I barely sensed it in time to deflect the thrust which slipped past my guard. Sure enough, I recognise that one-handed approach.

_I allow the Force to flow through me, guiding my every turn, every stroke, every cut. High, low, backhand, overhead, the dance of Makashi is as elegant as it is disorienting._

_Yet I know I do not rely on it. Between your lessons from Master Tyvokka and your own unshakeable composure, you meet my assaults, deflecting thrusts and avoiding traps. Even so, the sheer potency of this form gives you pause. And with that pause, the grounds we hold shift once more._

To fight against Makashi, one must break the wielder's pattern without a misstep of one's own. That needs keen instincts, raw power, and unbreakable resolve. I learned that from Tyvokka, Shaak Ti, and even Dooku.

Your own skill is considerable. Within moments, you've reversed our positions by slipping past my ripostes and hammering your position in with a renewed Ataru blitz. You dance freely between forms, using the precision of the duellist to push me back and the agility of the hawkbat to prevent me from countering. It is such a true mastercraft of bladework that it is almost a shame that I must break your offensive. Almost.

_To the watchers, that seemed like a lucky blow, a desperate downwards strike. Yet even with my arms numbed and my footing off, I knew it was no accident. To place a Djem So power strike through such a disorienting assault is no mean feat, and I admire that. Naturally, you follow through with a swiftness which belies your stances and a strength that speaks of them._

_But while all Jedi are swift, some are trained to be swifter. Power fills me, guides me, and I am no longer there. I am soaring through the air, landing deftly on my feet, and defending myself._

I was right to anticipate that you would evade my next strike. You even deflect the rising strike which follows, something few opponents expect after so forceful a stroke. Tyvokka's Rising Krayt was quite potent in its day because of the surprise factor.

You are on the defensive, but only by the smallest margin. Even against my strikes, you remain in control of your form and your position. Your technique has great clarity in defence and presence in attack, never remaining static, yet never losing its solidity. And I can sense it.

_As my guard is sorely tested, I feel the old emotions rising through the Force, hardening my will and promising power. It is a threat every Jedi encounters, especially in the face of frustration or regret. Memories flash before me, feelings of longing and loss. For home and kin. I shut it out and focus my thoughts._

_Harmony is easier to come by this time, partly because of how constant and balanced your presence is. I feel our bond as masters and brothers through the Force, and I know peace. And through peace comes technique._

Through the storm of our bladestrokes, I see into the eye of the tempest. We both changed styles and tactics, yet a vital difference remains.

My strength is derived from harmony; it is steady, dependable, yet unchanging. But yours is born form feelings. Your passion gives you strength, yet your discipline guides it. You cannot deny your emotions, no more than any Jedi ever could, so you channel them. As sentients, as living beings, that is the best any of us can do with our emotions.

_Finally, we reach an impasse. An upwards cut dislodged my lightsaber from my grip, but rather than go after it, I perform a turning flip over you and call it back to me with the Force. I land with the saber by your head, though I am quick to note your own by my abdomen._

_Wordlessly, we end it. The sabers deactivate and the air clears, our minds no longer preoccupied with battle. With a bow, our lesson draws to a close._

**Author's notes: Well, hope you like it! Yeah, it's pretty vague if there was an actual lesson, but it's more about learning more about these two, I would say!**_  
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End file.
